The Man In The Cloak
by E.T.R Da Polski
Summary: Every night my dreams are getting worse. Every night my dreams are destroying me. OC story. Submit your own after reading! WARNING: Dark themes, swearing, mild violence, scary sections, sadness, drinking, smoking, smut and boy x boy.
1. Dreams Can Kill

_So this is a long first chapter for me, if the writing style seems a bit weird, don't worry, I'm only doing it for the dream sections. I'm hoping for this to be a complete OC story so if you want, you can submit one. Just send me a PM with a quick summary of your character (ie: what I can do with them, their mannerisms, their vulgarity, how you want me to portray them, etc) and I'll choose the best ones. I'm only looking for a few. In the story, the main character will visit a therapist and several of his friends and I'll probably have him talk to a few more people. So, as stated, just send me a PM and I'll get back to you if I like your OC. Hope you enjoy._

* * *

Blood.

Guns.

Death.

These visions infect my dreams every night. I cannot escape from them. A man in a hooded cloak, handing me a pistol, telling me to shoot my best friend.

Every night I shoot my friend.

Every night I get dragged into a twisted game of illusions, madness and violence.

Every night my dreams are destroying my mind.

A sniper's crosshair drifts over my head. He pulls the trigger but it does nothing.

Nothing to end my sorrow.

Nothing to end my horror.

Nothing to end the pain.

Why?

Why am I being punished?

The Man In The Cloak forces me into a maze.

The floors are covered in blood.

The walls are dripping with it.

Screams of pain and the crying of a young man can be heard emanating from the centre.

I rush through the maze, taking every exit, all leading to nowhere.

My head is throbbing, the screams digging into my skull.

A corpse falls down from the ceiling. His eyes have been burnt out with cigars.

I look up and see he has fallen from a rope, tied around his now severed leg.

His chest cavity is burst open and his heart is missing.

There is a pistol next to him. It is blood-stained and looks old.

It is. A Makarov. Late 80's by the code on the slide.

I pick it up and check the magazine. It is full but the bullets look as old as the gun.

I check the body for ammunition. Only one more mag. There is a few loose bullets as well.

I cock the gun and step over the body. I keep the pistol raised, just in case.

The screaming is getting louder and the crying is getting closer. I'm nearing the centre.

I turn the corner and see a body on the floor with a man kneeling down beside it.

There is a gun on the floor and the body has a headshot wound.

As I near the man, he suddenly swings himself around to face me.

Before I have a chance to react, he picks up the gun and aims it at me.

"Don't shoot, I just want to help."

"No, you don't wanna help me. You're that bastard in the motherfuckin' cloak, in disguise."

"No, I'm not. I want to help you. I'm stuck here as well."

"Stuck? Stuck? What the fuck do you mean stuck? This is your dream, you can end it."

"I can't end it. I have to finish them or I won't wake up and that means you'd die too."

"Nah, I don't die. I stay in your head, rippin' you apart."

"Look, just drop the gun and let me in."

"You ain't gettin' in."

"Who'd you kill?"

"What, you don't recognize 'im? Come on, take a closer look."

I walk slowly over to the body. I look down at the face and see myself.

I jump back in horror at what I've just seen.

When I look back up at the man holding the gun to my head, he's gone.

The man that stands in his place is more terrifying than that.

The Man In The Cloak is holding out a key.

I grab it and he disappears.

I stand up and walk over to the door with a red handprint on the doorknob.

I insert the key and turn it left. The door steadily opens with a creak. It is pitch black inside.

I walk in and raise my pistol again. I can hear groaning coming from all sides of the room.

I yell as I see a shape emerge from the darkness. It seems like some undead human.

I point my gun at his head.

I pull the trigger and hear a loud bang along with a crunching pop.

His head has exploded. I wipe the brains and blood off me and keep moving.

The room is never-ending. As I'm walking, I'm just going deeper into darkness.

I turn around a see bright light with a male figure standing in the centre of it.

I run back as fast as possible but the man shuts the door before I can get through.

I slam into the door, making a loud crack. I look back around the room.

What little light was in here is now gone. I need to find a way out. Fast.

I walk back into the darkness and see a light at the other end.

I start to walk towards it but start to see more undead walking in.

I aim my gun at the door and fire three times. Just enough to put them off coming in.

The door slams shut as a loud thud emanates from behind me.

I turn to see The Man With The Gun stood in front of the door.

"Come on! I can't get outta here without your fuckin' help!"

It may be a trap but beggars can't be choosers. I run up to the door and slam past him.

"I heard the gunshots. You shouldn't have gone in there."

"Why not?"

"Because you shouldn't have, just leave it there."

"Where do we go now?"

"There's no we. Just you."

"What do you mean?"

"D'ya know the fucked-up part of your mind you don't wanna admit exists?"

"Course."

"Well, I'm that in human form."

"What?"

"Your brain doesn't want to show you my normal form which is pretty fuckin' terrifying."

"Fuck."

"Yeah. Here, take this. M16, 30 rounds, fire it in bursts if you don't wanna waste 'em."

"I'll go one better. Single shot."

"Good luck. Have a couple of extra mags, you're gonna need 'em. Gimme that AK-47."

"Wait, why do you get two rifles?"

"Cause I ain't real. I can do whatever the fuck I want."

We load our guns and start to walk out of the maze.

I take the mag out of my Makarov and put the both of the items in my pocket.

His second gun is an MP5. I see extra mags in his pocket and three AK mags on his chest.

As we keep walking, I hear moaning and screams coming from the outside of the maze.

"HELP!" The scream echoes past us, deeper into the maze.

We run out to the exit and screech to a halt as we see a pile of bodies blocking our path.

The Man With The Gun pushes through them and keeps going.

As I follow him I see a warzone. Explosions all around, holes in buildings, bullets flying past.

He's just walking through the bullets. They aren't doing anything to him.

I follow but stay in cover to avoid anything thrown my way.

Suddenly a huge explosion takes down the building next to me.

I'm knocked down by the shockwave. It has no effect on The Man With The Gun.

I pick myself up as heavy suppressing fire comes from the north.

The Man With The Gun fires back. I hear shouts and screams of dying.

He's accurate. He takes cover beside me.

"I'm gonna need you to flank those motherfuckers or you ain't gettin' out."

"Are you fucking crazy? I'm not goin' out there!"

"Don't be a fuckin' pussy. Go, I'll cover ya."

I get up and run as fast as possible around the rubble of the broken building.

I run past the buildings and huts until I get near the sandbags the men are hiding behind.

I stay behind cover so I don't get their attention.

I lift my gun and aim it in their direction.

I pull the trigger and hold it down.

28 earth-shattering bangs later, they are all dead.

I count the bodies. Six. All unrecognisable due to amount of blood on their faces.

"Good job! I thought they weren't ever gonna die."

I collect any bullets and mags I can find before The Man With The Gun moves me along.

"Come on, we gotta get moving."

"HELP ME!"

That scream again.

"We should look where that's coming from."

"Okay."

We stand up and before we move towards the sound, he picks up a PKM off the floor.

"100 rounds, should be useful."

We can hear the sound getting closer. We go round the corner of a building and stop.

It is a horrifying sight. A young man, hung with a dozen hooks through his body.

The Man With The Gun lifts his weapon and pulls the trigger.

"No point in letting him suffer."

I nod and we keep moving. Whilst walking down a dusty highway, I see something strange.

Scope glint on a building. Less than a hundred yards away.

"GET DOWN!"

Before he has a chance, a shot rings out.

His head disappears as the bullet goes through.

The blood spatters all across my face and my shirt.

His body collapses to the ground with an almighty thud.

I run towards his body and pull him out of the road into an alleyway.

I grab his guns and look for the scope glint again.

I see the sniper shuffling across, adjusting his view.

I steady the PKM and pull the trigger.

I send a barrage of bullets his way.

I hear a shout and a scream, along with seeing a splash of blood.

I emptied the whole mag. 100 bullets, all being propelled by my anger. It was deafening.

I lay the gun down next to his body and take the other two, slinging them onto my back.

"I guess you were right. It was useful."

I stand up and continue my trip down the road.

It isn't ending. 30 minutes of walking, getting me nowhere.

I can feel myself about to pass out from exhaustion.

Just as I'm about to fall, I see a figure approaching me.

The Man In The Cloak.

As he comes closer, I can feel my blood freezing. My organs shutting down.

My heart falling out of my chest.

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

"**It is not me. It is you. Your mind is your own enemy. You must fight back."**

He holds a pistol out to his side.

A man walks up to him and takes the pistol.

I know who he is.

My best friend.

The one I shoot every night, using the exact same pistol he is now clutching.

"Why do you shoot me? Every time, you do it like you don't even care."

"I do care. I wish I could just shoot myself instead of you."

"Then do it. Shoot yourself."

He pushes me down to the ground and throws the gun next to me.

I pick it up. I press it up against the side of my head.

I take a deep breath and shut my eyes.

"**Do it. Pull the trigger."**

I feel a tear roll down my cheek as my finger tightens.

I hear a loud bang as I wake up with a scream.

I'm sweating and crying.

"John, you okay?"

"Yeah, Steve, I'm fine. Just had a nightmare."

"Oh. The same one?"

"Yeah, longer this time."

"Just lie back down, hun. I'll go get you a glass of water."

"Okay."

Steve climbed over me and walked out of the room.

I fell back down into bed and sighed.

My name is John Miller. I'm 17, I live in South Park and my dreams are breaking my mind.


	2. Who Is He?

_Okay, second chapter. Quite a long one this time. Sorry it's taken me so long to get it done. My computer F'd itself in the A on Saturday so I had to remember, like, this whole chapter and write it down word for fucking word. The very end of the chapter is a little rushed, so apologies are in order_._ Anyway, hope you enjoy it. Remember to PM me to send in your OC's for use in the next chapter, gonna be a party in the story_ so_ the more the merrier! PM, review and enjoy!_

* * *

Steve walked back into the room holding a glass of water. He's always very sympathetic when I have these dreams. I took the glass of water off him and steadied my shaking before taking a sip.

"So, what was different in the dream this time?" He said, grabbing a notebook from under the bed.

I explained it all and he had a few theories.

"It seems your dreams are getting worse. To start, the body falling from the ceiling with it's heart missing? I think that might be your dream telling you that you're heartless to shoot your friend. The dead body next to that guy with the gun? I think that's your emotional side showing how your friend would have struggled more than you to make that decision."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and that room, I think it's the centre of the dark side of your psyche. The door shutting before you got to it was saying that when you're offered help, you don't take it until it's too late. The whole warzone thing, I think that's symbolising your mind being in conflict with something."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I do. The boy hung up by all those hooks, I think that was just the dark side of your psyche again. The man with the gun dying, I think that means you can beat this thing but only if you have help doing it. And you shooting yourself was because you feel guilty for shooting your friend."

"Wow. I didn't think of that."

"Well, I'm not an expert but I know you well enough to make an accurate assumption."

"Thanks, Steve." I lifted myself up and hugged him, taking him with me when I leant back into my pillow.

"Steve, you know what makes me feel better when I have a bad dream?"

"John, it's 5 in the morning and we've got school in four hours."

"Please?"

"...Ah, damn it, I can't say no to you. Pull down your pants."

I love good boyfriends.

3 hours and one awkward condom disposal later, I decided to get ready for school.

I pulled on my blue jeans and threw on my black hooded sweatshirt. I grabbed my black "[OBEY]" baseball cap and chucked it on my head. I picked up my backpack, packed the night before for convenience, and walked downstairs to get myself breakfast.

Many people have a morning ritual which they do almost religously at the beginning of a day.

Steve has a cup of tea, half tea, half milk with three sugars, puts a box of painkillers in his backpack, just in case he gets tripped over at school again and stretches for five minutes.

I have a massive cup of coffee, listen to a randomly selected song by Eiffel 65, do 20 push-ups and 20 crunches then tune my violin for band practice.

I'm glad I have a boyfriend like Steve. Anyone else would have dumped me by now because of these dreams.

Steve was interested in my dreams from a neurological stand-point. He wanted to know what my dreams were doing to my brain's cognitive function or something like that.

I never understood it because Steve is, in most peoples eyes, a genius but he insists he just studies hard. It doesn't bother him that he's considered a nerd. He doesn't look, sound or act like a nerd. He's just smart.

If he is a nerd, he's one Hell of a cute nerd.

After 3 minutes of singing along to 80's Stars, I finished my coffee and started tuning my violin. I had used it yesterday so it didn't really need tuning, I just did it to make sure it was 100% perfect.

Everyone asks me why I got a purple violin. I always use the same answer. "Because I'm representing the Third Street Saints and purple suits me."

"Are you looking forward to Token's party tonight?"

"Yeah, should be fun."

"I just hope I don't have to deal with Wendy again. That girl is a mean drunk."

"I think drinking is just pointless. It kills your liver and it's empty calories."

"Agreed.

"I'm gonna bring my cocktail shaker and make Appletini's. There's nothing better than watching people getting handsy from the placebo effect of non-alcoholic drinks."

"Mm-hm."

"You're being quiet this morning."

"No, I'm not."

"Anyway, we need to get to school."

I put my violin back in it's case and slung my backpack on. I grabbed my iPhone and shoved it in my pocket.

I opened the door and let Steve go first. Luckily my dad isn't here. He's in India or something, working on something to do with a call centre or some shit.

I don't really care. I zone out when he talks about it.

Me and Steve walked, talking about our epic attempt to get to round 23 on Nazi Zombies last night, when I noticed Steve was walking with a limp.

"I really did a number on you this morning, didn't I?"

"Yeah."

"Why don't you try being on top for once?"

"I'm not made for repetitive movement. I have a slim skeletal structure and a slender build designed for being mated. And I prefer being your little uke."

"You remembered I like yaoi."

"I like it as well. If you recall, we sexually stimulated each other whilst watching it on the 15th of August, 2 years ago at 22:38."

"Damn your eidetic memory."

"Well, you can damn it all you want, it comes in handy when I lose my keys."

I laughed and felt my iPhone buzzing. I checked it and noticed it was my dad.

"My dad, hang on."

I answered and lifted it to the left side of my head.

"Hey, dad."

"Hello, John. I was just calling to see if you were on your way to school."

"Yeah, I'm walking there now."

"Steve with you?"

"Yeah."

"Did he stay over last night or did he go home?"

"Uh, he stayed over."

There was an awkward silence lasting a few seconds. My dad has suspicions about me but he's never confronted me with them. I think the biggest clue was when he saw me texting "I love you" to Steve.

"Ahem, anyway, uh, I hope you have a good day. I should be back from this trip soon, just meeting with Shamarpololi Jahaysu to discuss the hedging of overseas..."

I zoned out. A few minutes of slack-jawed murmuring later, I was finally able to finish the conversation.

"...And Rajamapalal Porijtee should be able to close the deal."

"Alright."

"Well, I'll probably call you later to check in."

"Kay, dad. Speak to you soon."

"Bye."

I hung up the phone and put it back in my pocket.

"What's up with your dad? Is he in jail for punching a cow 'cos it stole his iPod?"

"No, he's meeting with an overseas hedge or something."

"That reminds me, I really have to teach you about the stuff he does."

"Why?"

"Cause it's interesting."

I gave him a confused look of disbelief.

"Don't give me that look. What he's doing in India right now could decide the future of his company. He's trying to-"

"Bored!"

"Just 'cos you think it's boring doesn't mean other people think it's boring."

He crossed his arms and looked away from me. Why does he get angry over such small things?

"Sorry, Steve. I'll be more sensitive next time."

"Thank you."

As we were nearing the school, I saw Craig walking with Tweek. Craig was texting on his iPhone and Tweek had a massive flask of coffee in his hands.

There has been a few rumours going around about them but no solid evidence has ever been discovered.

It wouldn't be the worst idea in the world to talk to them.

"Craig!" I lifted my hand in the air and signalled him to come closer.

Tweek, in his own little world, didn't hear me yell, as hard as that may be. Craig tapped his shoulder and Tweek turned around.

Tweek tried to grab Craig's hand, almost as if it was a natural reaction. Craig fought back a little but gave in when Tweek grabbed his wrist.

Me and Steve tried not to pay attention to it.

"Hey, guys." Craig said, putting his iPhone away as he walked closer to us.

"Hey, Craig. What's up with Tweek?"

"Same shit that's always up with Tweek."

"Th-that's not f-funny, Craig." Tweek said, putting the now empty flask in Craig's backpack.

"I didn't mean it, Tweeky."

Tweek smiled a little bit and came out from his hiding place behind Craig's back.

"We gonna see you at Token's party tonight?" Steve said, still looking at Tweek grasping Craig's wrist.

"Yeah, if I can get Tweek to come with me."

"I'll go if y-you go, C-Craig."

Craig ignored that comment.

"I hope Wendy doesn't get drunk like she did last year. That girl is a bitch when she's hammered."

Craig chuckled and Tweek cringed, knowing that if Wendy heard it, she would have killed me.

"Oh, Craig, I forgot to tell you, me and John got to round 22 on Nazi Zombies last night."

"Cool."

We continued talking about it with Tweek hiding behind Craig, gripping his arm. As we got in the school, Craig disbanded from us and went to his class.

Me and Steve were walking to our own class when I had a worrying thought.

"Steve, if I doze off in class, can you wake me up?"

"Kay, just don't punch me if you were having a good dream."

I pushed open the door and walked in, sitting down at my desk next to Steve. On my other side, there was Gerwazy. Everyone calls him Ricky.

We've been friends for three, maybe four years. He's not exactly popular but that makes it easier to be friends with him.

"Hey, Ricky."

"Oh, hey, John. You going to Token's party tonight?"

"Yeah, I'm going with Steve." I aimed my pencil at him but he was too focused on studying to reply.

I noticed Ricky was writing something. I had to ask him what it was.

"What you writing?"

"Songs."

"What about?"

"Random stuff."

"Like what?"

"Read this." He said, ripping off the sheet underneath the one he was writing on.

"You wrote a song about Scrubs?"

"It's my favourite show."

"Why is it initialed E.J.D?"

"Those are the intials of my middle names."

"Middle names?"

"Yeah, my first middle name is Eligiusz, my second middle name is Jędrzej and my third middle name is Dobromił."

"So, your first name and middle names combined mean "spear servant to choose man, warrior, kind and gracious." Weird." Steve said, not lifting his head up from his notebook.

"Yeah, that is weird. It's almost like your parents put the final nail in your tiny gay coffin before you were even born."

He blushed and put his head down, focusing on his work.

I handed back the Scrubs song entitled "JDizzle" and concentrated on the annoying task set before me.

Three mind-numbing hours later, it was finally time for lunch. I put my things back in my backpack with a sigh. School was tiring, no matter how much you can try to disagree.

Steve got up and told Ricky to walk with him. I followed after another sigh and a stretch.

"Steve, how do you know so much about names?"

"I'm smart, it's my job to know."

I looked over at Steve and I felt something was wrong. I was starting to feel light-headed and sick. I didn't want to pass out in school.

"Uh, Steve, I'm just gonna run outside quickly. I'm feeling a little sick, I think I need some fresh air."

"Alright. If you aren't back in half an hour, I'll come and look for you."

"Kay."

I turned around and ran out the back entrance. I looked up and saw the sky. It was red and raining blood.

My mind didn't go to the obvious and think that this is just a hallucination from my lack of sleep.

My mind made me believe it was real.

I saw thunder claps and giant black creatures flying across the sky. I could hear screaming coming from the front of the school.

I sprinted round the side and saw a torso hanging from the flag pole. It had no limbs, no head and it's stomach was split open, causing it to drip blood and sections of intestine on to the floor.

I could see some black figure running down the street. I dropped my bag and ran after him.

I could see he had a dagger in one hand and an axe in the other. It didn't deter me.

I kept running until he stopped and turned around.

He held the axe up to my throat and pressed the dagger into my chest. Luckily he didn't use enough force for it to go through my skin.

"**Why do you follow me?**"

I couldn't reply. The axe was pushed too heavily into my throat for my vocal chords to release any form of noise.

I looked at his face. His skin was lightly burnt, his eyes were red, his cheeks scarred and his mouth had blood poring out the side.

I scoped down his body and saw he had three puncture wounds on his chest, all oozing a red and black liquid.

He was wearing some strange hooded armor, black with metal studs and red patches on the legs and arms.

"**Pathetic.**" He said, pushing me down to the floor.

He walked across the street, not even dodging the cars as they passed through him. He stopped halfway and pulled another dagger out of the sheath on his left side.

He aimed it at the car approaching him and threw it. It went straight through the windshield and hit it's target with a small bloody spatter, causing the car to swerve off the road.

The car was sliding towards me. I had to get up or I was going to die.

I pushed myself off the floor and sprinted as fast as I could. I dragged my foot out of the way just as the car crashed into the house I was in front of.

I stopped and stared at the disaster. I wiped my hands across my face as the car burst into flames.

I straightened my cap and looked for the Hooded Man. I darted my eyes from place to place and saw him climbing a house, holding a bow with a quiver full of arrows on his back.

When he reached the roof, he drew an arrow and pulled it back. He pointed it to the car and let it fly.

It hit the car with a yellow explosion, causing the flames to burst even higher and reach out towards me.

I fell over but quickly picked myself up. He cursed under his breath and threw the bow down on to the floor, making it dissapear with a puff of blue smoke.

He turned around and ran across the building, jumping high and evaporating into thin air, leaving black and red smoke all around the house.

I ran back to the school, almost throwing up when I saw the mangled corpse on the flag pole. I picked up my bag, dusted myself off and walked through the doors.

Everything returned to normal as I looked around. I rubbed my eyes and kept going into the cafeteria. I saw Ricky and Steve sat at a table and I slowly pulled myself over to them.

"Fuck, John, you look like you've seen a ghost."

"You don't know the half of it."

"Explain."

"How the fuck do I do that?" I muttered under my breath.

After a few minutes of difficultly describing what happened, Steve had something to say.

"John, I think you need to see a therapist."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because this is getting worse. It's making you hallucinate."

"But I don't want to see a therapist."

"You're gonna have to. Who knows what those hallucinations could make you do? You could beat someone up and not even know you've done it."

"I suppose but-"

"No but's, I'm taking you to a therapist tomorrow."

I begrudgingly had to agree to go. I didn't want to but if I don't, it's going to make my life Hell.


End file.
